Pearl Cove (16 page)

From the air, Hong Kong was a silent, glittering white dream sleeping between blue ocean
and black land. From the ground, Hong Kong was an exhilarating nightmare. Noise. Traffic.
Smells. Crowds. Urgency. The rapid rise and fall of the Chinese language ran like a
seething river through the citys high-rise canyons. There was calm to be found inside
walled residences, those private oases of proportion and elegance and silence. There was
no calm on the streets. The streets were for reckless commerce, sharp-edged and
unapologetic.

The change in government known as the Turnover hadnt diminished Hong Kongs wealth or
ambition. The newspapers printed communist sentiments and exhortations daily, but the city
was fueled by a breathtaking capitalism. Hong Kong was a neon-flashing city of gamblers
whose sheer dedication to money made Las Vegas look like a sixty-five-watt bingo parlor
run by parish priests.

The streets boiled with pedestrians locked in unequal battle with delivery trucks, taxis,
buses, motorbikes, bicycles, and private cars. Beneath the haze of vehicle exhaust, white
was the most common color of the buildings. Dazzling rainbow bursts of neon signs climbed
entire buildings, calling attention to commerce. Black was the usual color of clothes.
Smoke blue was the color of the air in the streets where sidewalk vendors grilled snacks
on braziers for the endless, restless, relentless tide of humanity.

Archer tapped the taxi driver on the shoulder and pointed toward the sidewalk. Without
looking at traffic, the driver pulled over. Hannah tried not to look, either. Despite her
dislike of the rain forests primitive villages, she had never been comfortable in big
cities. They were exciting. They were fascinating. They were exotic. But after a while, a
numbing sort of overload set in. Then all she wanted was silence and space. Cities offered
neither.

Almost there, Archer said. He tugged down the black cowboy hat he wore. He had picked it
up from one of Hong Kongs remarkable street vendors. Wisely, he had declined the dazzling
diamond Rolex the same vendor was ready to part with for ver tiny cash, sir sir, ver
tiny.

Anyone following us? Hannah asked.

We lost the last one in the meat market, when those German tour buses unloaded.

Did you recognize him?

Them, he corrected. No. I just recognized the moves. But you could lose an elephant in
that market. Thats why I went there.

Hannah swallowed and said nothing. Hong Kongs immense open-air food market had reminded
her of a jungle without trees, Genesis without pages. Every kind of creature that walked,
flew, jumped, swam, or slithered waited in cages for housewives and cooks to bargain over
the cost of fresh protein for dinner. The cats and dogs were difficult enough for her to
bear, but the monkeys were the worst, so nearly human in their silent pleas to be freed
from the cage of heat and smoke and noise. Eventually, this meal or the next, they would
get their wish.

Shuddering, Hannah put the memory of the cages out of her mind.

Over there, Archer said.

She followed his glance and saw the store without even having to stretch her neck; when
they werent being followed, being tall enough to look over the heads of most of the street
crowd was an advantage. She couldnt translate the ideographs that flashed over the shop,
but the owner obviously had his eye on world trade. Translations of the Chinese symbols
were provided in Japanese and Korean ideographs, the Russian Cyrillic alphabet, plus the
more familiar alphabet used by the French, German, Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, and
English speakers.

No Arabic, Hannah said.

No Arabian buyers.

Why? Do they like hard gems?

They like diamonds as well as the next guy, but the Arab princes and oil sheiks have
treasure rooms that are jammed with ropes of natural pearls, Archer said. Theyve been
harvesting naturals for two thousand years in the Red Sea, Persian Gulf, and Gulf of Aden.

Bet they hated Kokichi Mikimoto.

Archer looked around. Despite being literally shoulder to shoulder with other pedestrians,
he and Hannah might as well have been alone. The people dividing around them were talking
fast in Chinese, walking faster, and smoking as though there was a million-dollar prize
for finishing the most cigarettes in a day.

Are you talking about the guy who patented the technique for culturing round pearls?
Archer asked.

She nodded.

Youre right, he said. Mikimotos not a hero in the Gulf. He blew the bottom out of the
pearl trade when he destroyed the rarity of the pearl.

But not the beauty.

The child of moonbeams. Tears of the gods. The soul of the sea. Archer smiled. Pearls are
all of that and more.

But not cultured pearls, is that it?

Not to the Arabs. They say cultured pearls are inferior to naturals, and theyll say it as
long as they have natural pearls supporting their currency along with the rest of the
royal treasury.

What do you think?

While people jostled and chattered and poured by on either side in a human tide, Archer
looked across the bobbing heads at the window where a gleaming South Seas necklace was the
centerpiece of one display. The choker was made of round pearls that had an unusual,
almost tangerine orient. I think that gem-quality natural pearls are far too rare and
therefore astronomically expensive to support any kind of extensive pearl trade.
Fortunately for Changs Sea Gems stores, the rest of the world isnt prejudiced against
cultured pearls.

I admit to a prejudice in favor of black pearls, Hannah said, looking at a matinee-length
necklace that had a lovely dark luster. She would have liked to get closer to the window,
but the crowd was like a moving, impenetrable barrier.

Must be your American parents, Archer said. Asians prefer silver-white. South Americans
like South Seas gold. Its classic white for Europe, pink for the low-ticket American Akoya
trade, and black for the American luxury trade.

She leaned very close to Archer. If the Asians dont like black pearls, why are we here?

Japan loves black pearls. For the right gems, theyll pay twice what Americans would.

Then we should be in Japan.

Last year. Or maybe next year. But right now, the yen is very weak against the dollar.
Whoever has the goods will sell them where the currency and demand are the strongest.

America?

Archer nodded.

So why are we in Hong Kong? she asked.

When it comes to luxury goods, Hong Kong is the commercial crossroads of the world. If
someone wants a quick transaction and is willing to settle for a cut-rate price, this
would be the place.

Isnt this kind of shop too, um... High-end for crooks? he finished dryly.

Right.

No matter where on the food chain you start, goods like were chasing would end up in Sea
Gems, where the clientele is rich enough to buy third-world countries but would rather
have baubles.

Hannah chewed lightly on her lower lip. She was still getting used to the taste of
indestructible lipstick. Is Sea Gems part of the Chang familys holdings?

Sam Chang is the owner of record, Archer said quietly, but you have to dig a long time to
find that out. The store has the best pearls in Hong Kong, which is to say some of the
best pearls in the world.

Both the name Sam and the name Chang are common, especially in the westernized East. Are
you sure its the same Sam Chang? Ians father?

Archer nodded. The old man owns and operates high-end pearl stores all over the world.
Tokyo. Shanghai. Los Angeles. Manhattan. London. Paris. Rome. He was going to open up one
in Moscow, too, but the ruble keeps crashing.

What about your fathers company? Donovan International? Yes. He shrugged.

We have offices in every country that has significant mineral reserves, if thats what you
mean.

In mock salute she touched the brim of the wide, floppy black hat she had picked up in the
airport. Impressive.

Thats The Donovan, all right, he said, forcing a path through the crowded sidewalk so that
they could stand close to one of the many display windows. Impressive. Like that pearl
choker.

He stepped back just enough to let her look past him into the display window. To the
right, next to a long strand of golden pearls alternating with glittering diamonds, she
saw a black pearl choker. The pearls were at least eighteen millimeters, as big as the
choker Archer had bought for her in Broome. After that, all similarity between the two
necklaces ended. These pearls had a fine luster, an iridescent blue-black color, and a fat
six-figure price tag.

Frowning, she went in closer until she was all but pressing her nose against the glass.
The city heat was so intense she couldnt have steamed up the glass with her breath if she
tried.

She looked at the necklace with such concentration that the rest of reality just faded
into background. What do you think? he asked after a few minutes. Quite nice, despite the
fact that the color match across the strand is only good, not excellent. He turned, looked
at the necklace appraisingly, and then at her. Only good?

Yes, she said, not glancing away from the window. There was no hesitation in her voice. I
cant tell from here, but I suspect that the surface isnt quite up to the price on one or
two of those pearls. If so, it would explain the less than superior color match.

A slow smile spread across Archers face. He thought of how quickly she had become a pouting

tourist for the shopkeeper in Broome. He was accustomed to working alone, but he was
beginning to appreciate just how useful she could be in catching pearl traders off guard.

Can you play the part of an ultrafussy, not-too-classy rich bitch without revealing how
much you really know about pearls? he asked.

You mean the kind of spoiled brat who knows what she likes, never sees it, and could find
fault with God?

Archer laughed out loud. Perfect. He ran his fingertips over Hannahs cheek in a light
caress. You re looking for a very special black pearl necklace. You dont know what kind,
but youll know it when you see it.

How special? she asked.

He shook his head, silently telling her not to mention the Black Trinity. As long as you
dont describe right away how special the orient is, the necklace can be as special as you
like.

A real colorful black, she said, deadpan.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. You got it. Lets go make the manager chew his
very expensive carpet. If he gets irked enough, hell let us into the vault in back just to
show us how important he and his pearls are and how ignorant and ordinary we are. Then
well see how much he knows and what hes saving for his special clients.

And, depending on what Archer saw or didnt see, he would decide if it was time to put a
rainbow cat among the sleek pearl pigeons.

How do you know this store has the really good stuff hidden in a vault? she asked.

Stores like this always do. Whats in the windows is just the lure. Besides, Ive been in
the vault before. Thats where they keep their virgins, he said, using the common name for
pearls that havent been drilled. Nice goods. Really nice.

Will someone here recognize you?

I doubt it. Its been years.

He pulled out a pair of clear glasses. It looked like they were bifocal, but they werent.
There was just an extra thickness of glass at the bottom of the lens. The frames were
thin, black, the latest in Italian flash. The lenses were amber tinted. The glasses, like
the hat, completely changed the lines of his face.

She lifted her eyebrows in silent salute. Spoiled, bitchy, and way too picky. Anything
else?

I dont know anything about pearls. And my name is

Sugar, Hannah cut in quickly. Im rotten with names.

Sugar? His mouth curled up at the corners. Okay, I can live with that. It beats buttercup.

Buttercup? She looked him up and down, lingering on the size and set of his shoulders.
Doesnt suit.

Thank you. But thats what my sister Honor calls her husband when shes annoyed with him.
And vice versa.

Buttercup. Is her husband, um, small?

Am I?

No.

Jakes the same size as me.

Buttercup. She rolled the word around on her tongue and grinned. I like it.

Archer had a feeling he was going to wish he hadnt let Hannah in on that particular family
joke. Yet seeing her face light up with amusement was something he couldnt really regret.

The inside of the store was like a museum rather than a commercial enterprise. Instead of
putting out as much merchandise as possible, the decorator had used empty space to create
a feeling of importance

around the display pedestals. In place of the brilliant, pinpoint lighting used by
jewelers to enhance diamonds and other faceted stones, the light aimed at the pearls in
their satin nests was soft, carefully color balanced and often fluorescent rather than
incandescent.

No glass caged the tops of the pedestals. Potential buyers were kept just out of easy arms
reach by burgundy velvet ropes. A very old, fabulously costly silk carpet muffled the
sound of expensively shod feet. French Impressionist paintings and works by ancient
masters of calligraphy hung on the walls, adding to the feeling of richness and cultural
worth. Intricately carved, museum-quality folding screens separated various areas.
Quietly, repeatedly, the decor let customers know that they were privileged to be part of
such elegance and taste.

The interior was divided into suites. Each had its own type of pearls. Freshwater baroques
from every river, stream, pond, and lake in the world, in sizes from hummingbird to
chicken egg. Saltwater baroques from abalone whose rainbow orient was intense, but lacked
the mystery of the Black Trinitys pearls. Small Japanese Akoya pearls, with their natural
pale blue tones and their unnatural pink and silver ones. Larger Tahitian pearls, whose
highlights ranged from steel gray to peacock blue to jungle green. Big South Seas pearls
with their silver-whites and radiant golds angel dreams fashioned into necklaces and
bracelets, set into earrings and brooches and rings. The Australian pearls were biggest of
all, legacy of the Indian Oceans sweeping tides and the pearl farmers skill.